“According to the cop I talked to, the Mexican Mafia pretty much owns Ohio these days when it comes to the drug trade. These two had been pointed out to them by a couple Amish kids for trying to enlist some of them.”
Claire turned to Maddy. “What have you gotten yourself into!”
“Nothing. I swear.” Maddy wrapped her arms around her waist and rocked back and forth. “He was really sweet when he was talking to me at the restaurant.”
“You are finished working in the restaurant,” Claire said.
The minute they pulled into the driveway and came to a stop, Maddy was out the door and into the house, where he assumed she would have a good cry.
Claire lingered, sitting in the backseat. He turned around, putting one elbow on the back of the seat.
“Are you all right?”
“No. I am not all right,” she said. “My hair is all schtruwwlich, I am embarrassed by what I’m wearing. I’m shocked by the decision my silly niece made, and I am very ashamed of the way I acted tonight.”
“Claire, don’t worry about it. You were modestly covered from your ankles to your neck.” He could laugh now, remembering the fear he’d seen on the boys’ faces when the apparition of Claire had appeared. “But I was kind of wondering what you thought you were going to do with that paratrooper’s knife.”
“I wasn’t thinking at all,” she said. “I didn’t even realize it was in my hand. That is the thing I am most upset about of all.”
“You did nothing wrong, Claire.”
“Oh, I do many things wrong,” Claire said. “All the time. I pray God forgives me.”
“Like what?” He found her contrition amusing. Whatever sins this lovely woman had committed could not be too heinous. From what he could see, the only thing she did all day and every day was work hard and care for her children and patients. “What things are you doing that are so wrong?”
Clair thought hard. “It was nearly eleven o’clock last Monday before I got my wash finished and hanging on the line.”
After the strain of the past couple of hours, he couldn’t help it. He burst out laughing.
“You make fun, but it is my job to be a good mother and homemaker and sometimes I fail at both.”
“Sometimes we all fail,” Tom said. “I’ve certainly had my share of failure.”
“In what way?”
It was dark. They were alone. They had survived a traumatic evening together. He could no longer hold back. He took a tentative step into no-man’s-land, hoping with all his heart that it would not turn into a minefield that would blow up in his face. “Many years ago I caused an accident that I’ve never forgiven myself for.”
“That must be very hard to bear.” Her eyes were compassionate. “What kind of an accident?”
“A car accident.”
“Did someone die?”
“Yes.” He struggled for the right words. He wanted to tell her it had been his brother, but the words stuck in his throat. “My . . . best friend was killed.”
“Oh, Tom.” She leaned forward and laid her hand on his arm. “Were you very young?”
The sound of tenderness in her voice nearly caused him to come undone. “I was not much older than Maddy.”
“Ah.” Claire nodded with understanding. “You were still stupid then.”
“Yes.” He smiled at her neat summing-up. “I was still very stupid.”
“The sins of our youth. They are hard to bear sometimes.” Claire looked out the window, as though seeing back through her own past. “But God’s grace is sufficient.”
“Maybe God’s grace is sufficient, but my actions caused many people much heartache. No matter how hard I try, I cannot find peace or self-forgiveness for what I did.”
“Self-forgiveness? Is this an Englisch word?”
“I don’t know. It’s a common term.”
“This is not a word my people use. Self-forgiveness . . .” She lingered on it. “How does it work, this self-forgiveness?”
“I guess you find a way to forgive yourself for something you’ve done and then you go on with your life.”
“But how is it possible to forgive yourself? What would be the point of trying? The Lord is the only one with the power to forgive our sins. Then you are forgiven indeed.”
The concept was so pure, so biblical, its simplicity nearly took his breath away. Of course he couldn’t forgive himself. He did not have the power.
“I had never thought of it that way. Thank you. That helps.”
“I need to go inside now,” she said. “It is not seemly for me to sit in this car with you.”
Tom pulled his keys out of the ignition. “Good night, Claire.”
He heard her laugh as she climbed out of the car. “You should be saying ‘Good morning, Claire,’ ” she said. “Not ‘good night.’ ”
He was grateful that she still had a sense of humor after what had happened tonight. She’d been through enough tonight to give some Amish women a nervous breakdown.
chapter TWENTY-FOUR
Claire tried to get some rest, but it eluded her. So many things to worry about. Maddy and her rebellion. Finding a new horse. Rose and Henry’s continuing problems. Where would they go, she wondered? What would they do?
Claire simply had no more room, or she would have tried to take them in. She also wasn’t sure she could live under the same roof as Henry without wanting to give him a piece of her mind! Rose might be married to him and under his leadership, but he wasn’t the head of her house! He was not her husband. He wasn’t even a leader in their church. She was under no obligation to allow him to be the head of anything in her life!
If only everything would calm down so she could get some peace!
She brushed and braided her hair once again, washed off her feet, and then crawled into her bed with a sigh of thanksgiving for her bed. The moment she closed her eyes, her pager went off. She checked the number. Fanny Yoder. The woman had been due these past three days. She needed to leave immediately.
Fortunately, Fanny lived only a mile away and had never wanted to use the birthing pool. With nothing more to carry than her bag of supplies, she could walk it in less time than it would take to hitch Flora to the buggy.
Most days it felt like she would never get caught up. It often seemed as though she had to fight her way through life, when many other women made it look easy.
• • •
The birth was an easy one—Fanny was quite the expert by now, and best of all, she had two competent sisters ready to take over the minute the baby was born. As Claire trudged back home, she was anticipating a leisurely breakfast with her family and then a long, long nap. It was their no-church Sunday and she was in desperate need of a true Sabbath rest. Last night, before going to bed, before the craziness with Maddy set in, she had made up a breakfast oatmeal casserole for this morning. With some cold milk, it would taste so good.
She wondered briefly about asking Tom to join them—he’d gone to so much effort and danger last night, she would like to say thank you, and her oatmeal casserole was truly delicious.
How Maddy would act today was a mystery. She might be surly or contrite or defensive. There was no telling.
She felt a little guilty about how much she enjoyed her no-church Sundays. Englisch people seemed to think it odd that the Amish had church only every other Sunday, but it had worked well for her people for hundreds of years. Of course, the Sundays they did have church, they certainly made it count. Sitting on hard, backless benches for three hours at a time—or more—was no joke.
As she walked home, she tried out several different conversations with her niece, preparing herself for whatever mood Maddy was in. She thought she was ready for anything Maddy could throw at her.
When she got to her driveway, there was a strange buggy parked in front of her house. This was not just any buggy. She could tell that it belonged to someone who was a member of the New Order Amish church. Instead of the rolled, strapped-up doors that her Old Order Amish church
affected, this buggy had the sliding doors of the New Order and it had rubber tires!
What on earth was a New Order Amish person doing here?
The New Order people had been a thorn in Old Order people’s flesh ever since they had pulled away because they didn’t think the Old Order was “spiritual” enough. The New Order was so intent about personal spirituality, not only did they go to Sunday school on their “off” Sunday, they even held Bible studies in the middle of the week, as though the hours the Old Order church spent in services every other Sunday wasn’t enough.
She even heard they talked about “having a relationship” with Jesus Christ—as though they deemed themselves worthy of such a thing! How could a lowly human have a relationship with Jesus Christ? It sounded very prideful to her, as did their claim that one could be “assured” of salvation! Oh, such a prideful belief! Everyone knew that you worked hard, tried to follow Jesus, and when you died, if you were very lucky, you got to go to heaven.
Those New Order people also made a big deal about what they called “clean courtship,” eschewing bundling and any other sort of Rumspringa misconduct. That was all well and good, but from what little she’d seen, about the only thing their youngies did was study the Bible and go to hymn singings and highly chaperoned youth activities. That’s why every other Amish sect called them the “goody-goodies.”
The Old Order Amish did not shun them, but they shook their heads sometimes over the New Order’s enthusiasm for all things spiritual.
An Englisch woman had once asked her if the New Order Amish had electricity and cars. Englisch people could be so dense sometimes. Of course they didn’t have electricity and cars. That was the Beachy Amish.
What did these New Order people want with her? She had not delivered any babies to New Order mothers. Perhaps one of them wanted her midwife services? She debated. Yes, she would deliver a New Order baby. Their money was as good as anyone else’s.
She was astonished when Maddy came flying out the door dressed in her good church dress and climbed into the buggy.
“Where are you going?” Claire called.
“To church,” Maddy said.
“Wait!” As tired as she was, Claire trotted toward them. A girl she’d never seen before turned the buggy around and walked the horse toward her. Maddy was sitting up front with her Bible in her lap.
“What’s going on, Maddy? Who is your friend?”
“This is Joy. We work together at the restaurant.”
The girl, not much older than Maddy, wore the caped dress of the New Order Amish and the ribbonless prayer Kapp.
“It’s good to meet you,” Joy said.
Maddy clutched her Bible against her stomach. “We’re going to church.”
“But this is our no-church Sunday,” Claire protested.
“Not for Joy’s church. They have church every Sunday.”
Joy leaned forward. “It makes me feel better when I go to church every Sunday.”
“But I was going to put my oatmeal casserole in the oven when I got back,” Claire said. “I was looking forward to a nice, long Sunday breakfast.”
“Oh, I already did that for you,” Maddy said. “I got up early so I could help out. I know you didn’t get any sleep last night because of me. Breakfast is warm and sitting on the table all ready for you. Everyone else is still asleep.”
“But . . .” Claire said.
Maddy put her hand over Claire’s, “I know this seems sudden, but I’ve been considering going to Joy’s church for a long time. Last night, when God told me to get in the bathtub and when I heard the bullet hit and miss me, I promised Him that if I got out of that house alive, I’d start going to church with Joy. She’s been asking me for a long time. Her church is like that. They talk to people about their souls. I texted her last night after we got home and asked her to pick me up. Joy is going to teach me how to have a relationship with Jesus so I’m not tempted to do anything as stupid as I did last night ever again. Joy says I need more accountability in my life and her church can help me with that.”
Accountability? She had watched after Maddy as carefully as she knew how. Was Maddy sliding over to the New Order because she hadn’t given her enough rules?
All she could manage was a weak “Come home soon.”
She stood watching after the New Order buggy, remembering how hard it had been for her to leave the Swartzentruber church. So much soul-searching about giving up her church and much of her family. So much grief and prayer.
Once she made her decision, it took her months to get used to dressing in lighter, shorter dresses and to get used to the old hymns sung at a faster pace. It had been downright embarrassing the first time Rose took her to purchase store-bought underwear instead of the homemade underclothing required by Swartzentruber rules.
Of course there were great blessings when she crossed over to her twin sister’s church. In addition to getting to fellowship with Rose again, Levi, who had left the Amish entirely, installed indoor plumbing for her. Oh, the joy of having a real flush toilet and shower! Hot and cold running water in the kitchen, too! She even had a nice graveled driveway now, instead of constantly tracking in dirt and mud. Now Maddy was exchanging one sect for another in the blink of an eye. Because God told her to get in the bathtub?
Kids these days!
“You look like you could use one of these.” Tom held a coffee cup in each hand. “You can take your choice. You want it black?” He held up a cup. “Or with cream?” He held up the second cup. “There’s a couple of packets in my pocket if you take it with sugar.”
“Coffee is exactly what I need, but which do you prefer?”
“I can drink coffee any way it’s possible to make it. When you spend as much time in the military as I have, you learn to drink anything hot you can find that even resembles coffee.”
“Then I would like the one with the cream, please.”
“Here you go.”
She took the cup with both hands. “This is very nice of you. Thank you.”
“I saw you leave this morning,” Tom said. “When I was getting ready to go to Jeremiah’s. I’m getting better at milking, so it didn’t take us as long this time. I hit the start button the minute I saw you so it would be nice and fresh.” He lifted one of the midwifery bags off her shoulder. “You look like you’re going to fall over. Here, let me help you with this.”
Claire felt tears start behind her eyes and blinked them away. She needed kindness right now, very much. This thoughtfulness couldn’t have been any more timely.
“How did the birth go?” he said, as he followed her onto the porch.
“Fine.” She hesitated.
“Have you had breakfast? Maddy tells me we have a warm oatmeal casserole sitting on the table right now.”
“I would like that very much.” Tom slung her bag over his shoulder and opened the door for her before she could reach for the handle.
• • •
He hadn’t been expecting an invitation, but it was welcome. He hadn’t had oatmeal casserole for breakfast since his mother died, and it had been a favorite of his.
Claire didn’t go to any great lengths to serve him. One of the many things he admired about Amish women was their lack of fuss. She brought two bowls and two spoons to the table, got a pitcher of cold milk out of the refrigerator, sat down beside him, and bowed her head for a silent prayer. He responded by doing the same.
After a few minutes, she took a deep breath, as though finished with her prayer, and when he looked up, she was reaching for a spatula to place the oatmeal cake into his bowl.
“Oh, I forgot the applesauce.” She jumped to her feet and brought a home-canned jar from the refrigerator.
“I saw Maddy leave a few minutes ago in a New Order buggy.” He poured milk over the oatmeal cake. “That was different.”
Her spoon was halfway to her mouth when he said this, and she paused with it still in midair. “You know the difference between Old and New Order buggies
?”
He mentally chastised himself for having let down his guard. Most Englisch didn’t know the difference, nor should he. “Jeremiah was talking about it.”
That was true, but he didn’t tell her that the conversation had taken place more than thirty years ago.
Claire swallowed the spoonful of oatmeal. “Maddy says now that after God spoke to her in German, she wants to go to church every Sunday and learn how to ‘have a relationship’ with Jesus.”
“There are worse ways for her to spend her time.”
“Oh, and don’t I know it after last night!” She shook her head. “I am having trouble believing everything that happened last night. These past couple of years, the only thing that mattered to me, besides being a good midwife, was creating a peaceful and happy home. I think I must be doing something wrong.”
“One young girl’s escapade doesn’t make you a bad mother, Claire.”
“Perhaps, but it does not make me a good one, either.”
“With the exception of my own Mom, I think you’re the best mother I’ve ever known.”
His words hung there in the air, all shiny and golden. They were exactly the words she most needed to hear right now.
Those words also did something to her stomach that she didn’t want to happen. Tom was becoming entirely too important to her life. And that was not acceptable. She could not get involved with this Englisch soldier, but his continual thoughtfulness, not to mention the unselfish courage he had shown last night, was wearing away her resolve.
How could a woman dismiss a man who wore the words For those I love, I will sacrifice above his heart?
The worry, lack of sleep, constant work, and danger they had been in last night had taken their toll. She laid her spoon on the table and dropped her head into her hands while tears flowed.
“Oh, Claire, sweetheart,” Tom said. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
She gave a little shake of her head, wishing he wasn’t here to see her break down.
“Come here, Claire.” To her surprise, he grasped her hand, led her to the couch, and pulled her down beside him.
Claire was shocked. “I shouldn’t . . .”
Hidden Mercies Page 22
